


Oops Baby I Love You

by chameleontattoos



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 08:52:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15627165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleontattoos/pseuds/chameleontattoos
Summary: Turns out, Mollymauk is actually not as okay about not being with Jester as he thought he was.





	Oops Baby I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this with [little mix's "oops"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWZDLHUK3x0) on loop!! feel free to listen to it while you read!!

He has no idea what he’s doing or why he’s here, except that he does and he does. He spent a great night with a beautiful woman, and he had no reason not to stay the night once all the fun was said and done.

He feels like he should maybe regret his decisions. Have a few regrets regarding this situation. He definitely one hundred percent really has absolutely none of those.

Molly turns his head, feasting – no, indulging – nope, definitely feasting – on the glorious sight laid out beside him in this familiar queen double bed with its pink eiderdown stitched with red hearts and cartoon fireworks.

Jester is still asleep, lying on her stomach with her blue apple-cheek squished into her absurdly cushy pillow and her hair a complete mess. She looks adorable.

She looks absolutely fucking beautiful, if he’s more honest with himself.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

It had started at Yasha’s. Even though they had mutually agreed that “more than friends” was not working out for them as well as it could have been, they _were_ still friends and more importantly were _Yasha’s_ friends. So of course, they were both in attendance at beer and burritos night.

“Any new developments since we last talked?” Molly asked, settling on the kitchen barstool next to Jester’s.

Jester responded with an indelicate snort, because she knew just as well as Molly that ‘since we last talked’ was earlier that day over text. The most recent message on Molly’s phone was Jester’s complaining about how they didn’t have her regular bearclaws at the patisserie she usually went to for bearclaws.

“Oh, you know.” She sighed, drawing patterns in the condensation on the side of her bottle. Star, balloon – lollipop? – another star. “More of the usual. Scrapbooking, online shopping.”

“Find anything good?”

“Plenty!” Jester chirped. “I will send you links to some things that I think you will like, if you want.”

“Bless your giving heart, my dear.” Molly raised his beer in a casual toast. “What _would_ I do without you?”

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

Jester snuffles in her sleep, curling one delicate blue hand into a fist. Her tail twitches under the covers, brushing Molly’s navel. The sensation dredges up a memory from last night, of those same periwinkle fingers dancing over his skin. He shifts his hips, trying to ignore the sidewinding of his thoughts into some very dangerous territory.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

It had started at Yasha’s, and it continued with a catchup brunch here, a spontaneous dinner there, until Molly’s mind and heart were both in extremely strident agreement that he wasn’t so okay with _just friends_ any more.

Common sense kept telling him that of course that was bound to happen. There had still been feelings there from both parties. They had broken up for reasons of freedom, or something? Molly couldn’t remember, which was not the most helpful thing in the world. If he could just remember, maybe he could go back to the mental save state where Ex-Girlfriend Jester was something he was completely fine with. Equally unhelpful was the growing compulsion to ask for a takesies backsies.

Hearts. So fickle. Gods damn himself.

He knew exactly how he would go about asking for a takesies backsies, too. Grand gesture. The whole nine yards. Mostly because that was the way he did everything else. It would be out of character for him to do something as small as making plain buttered toast in an understated way, never mind proclaiming his rejuvenated romantic feelings towards the woman who apparently owned his heart as well as his purple behind.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

Molly’s stomach gurgles. He thinks there might still be some waffles left over from their late-night-midnight-snack-breakfast-for-dinner run, maybe. He flips back the covers and slides out of bed, careful not to bounce the mattress and wake its other occupant before she’s ready.

He’s lucky to have remembered that Beauregard is briefly crashing at Jester’s while her place gets some updates with its plumbing. The whole apartment building had to be vacated all at once, for which Molly absolutely blames a terrible management system. The point is, he gets a lucky break and does remember, and thus is in the kitchen actually wearing pants when Beau emerges from the guest room and collapses into a dining chair, sleepily rubbing her eyes.

“Coffee?” He lilts, wishing – not for the first time – that he could have a memory as prodigious as Caleb’s so as to never forget these prize-winning moments of the surly woman looking even less put together than usual.

Beau pillows her head on her folded arms. “Gods, yeah. Please.” She says, voice echoing off the smooth wooden tabletop.

They exist together in silence while Jester’s coffee machine does its good work. Mollymauk watches a pigeon doing whatever it is that pigeons do outside the window, occasionally forking chunks of slightly stale rewarmed waffle into his mouth. Beau doesn’t speak until after she’s carefully sipped her way through half a mug of coffee. “So, you and Jester, huh?” She fixes him with one of her patented neutral squinty faces. “Has that been, like… back to bein’ a thing for long?”

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

There had been others to share Molly’s bed in the interim between his and Jester’s split and… whatever this was. None of them were rebounds, nothing like that. He was perfectly able to function without her. He just had an expert eye for picking up people who were great in the sack. Besides, not sharing his own talents would have been a disservice to the community.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

“Why, d’you want to join?” Molly grins. “See what all the fuss is about?”

“Ew, man, no. Fuck.” Beau pulls a face, leaning away. “I mean, no offense, but, y’know. Girls.”

“Cheers to that.” He salutes her with his fork.

“What are we cheersing?” Says a familiar voice.

“The wonders of the female form.” Molly swivels in his seat, greeting Jester with his best, most charming smile. “Good morning, dearest. How did you sleep?”

“Pretty good.” The blue tiefling pads further into the kitchen, adjusting the hang of her pink night-shirt over her shoulders. “How about you guys?”

Beau gestures at the bags under her eyes in lieu of a verbal response, lifting her mug to her lips for a mouthful of now-only-warm coffee. Knowing her, she’d probably stayed up too late marathoning conspiracy videos again.

Molly grins. “My night was both restful and filled with wonderful dreams.”

“Was I in any of them?” Jester asks. She slides into Molly’s lap and he’s hit with a cloud of his favourite perfume of hers that makes it incredibly hard not to bury his nose in her neck in the kind of way that he should only think to do if he were in an actual relationship.

“You know you were, my dear.” He replies, mustering every last loose thread of his resolve and acting skills to keep up his playful charade. Everything is _fine_.

“You guys are disgusting.” Beau interjects, her voice flat. “How you’re not already back together is fuckin’ beyond me, man.”

“Shut _up_ , Beau –” Jester hisses, which is not the response that Molly in any way expects. Jester isn’t the quick-to-anger type. So, perchance, might it be something else?

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

He wasn’t sure when exactly the pair of them decided to give the whole _friends with benefits_ thing a whirl. If that was ever actually a conscious decision at all was anyone’s guess, really. It was nice to not have to go through the whole song and dance of explaining what he liked (copious amounts of dirty talk, biting, all that fun stuff) and what he didn’t (Mollymauk Tealeaf was nobody’s urinal, thank you very much), whether either of them were going to catch STDs (Molly was carefully clean, Jester was constantly cleric, so the answer to that question was an automatic no). So there was that.

It absolutely did not help the issue of him remembering how in love he was with Jester. Made it worse, definitely. So much worse. But really, in what world was he ever going to survive getting intimately reacquainted with a woman like Jester Lavorre?

Sure, he himself was a lot, but that was different. He hadn’t yet found the coin to have that sort of self-indulgent adventure. Also: but Jester. _Jester_.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

Beau isn’t all that apologetic, it seems. She just shrugs in response, draining the last gooey dregs of Jester’s premium blend coffee from her mug. “Uh huh.”

“You have somewhere else to be, I’m sure.” Molly says, stretching his lips wide in an exaggerated and very toothy grin. He’s been practicing to make it look a bit more threatening. “Please do go there.”

“That was a big ‘fuck off’ if I ever heard one.” Beau snorts.

Jester slides into the chair next to Molly, picking at a cinnamon scroll and silently scrolling through her feeds on her phone while Beauregard bustles around collecting her things. He gets the definite sense that she has something to say to him that she doesn’t want Beau to hear. He doesn’t know how he feels about that. Terrified is at least some of how he feels.

He’s only a person. He feels feelings, same as everyone else.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

It was Mollymauk’s own idea, and even in retrospect, it was hard to say whether it was the worst idea he’d ever had, or the best. But what he did know for absolutely certain was that being with Jester still felt orgasmically good, and that he was one hundred percent unquestionably back in love with her, and also that he didn’t want to have to let her go a second time.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

At long, _long_ last, Beau leaves, closing the door of the apartment behind her with the firm click just on the outside edge of being an angry slam that only Beauregard seems capable of. Jester puts her phone down and hops up to make herself a mug of mint hot chocolate. “Do you have plans today, Molly?” She asks. With her back turned as she puts her drink together, her face is hidden from his view. “I hope not, because I think that we need to talk about, you know! Some stuff.”

“Great minds.” Molly replies. He hopes he’s hiding his nerves as well as he thinks he is.

“You sound nervous.” Ah, so that’ll be a No, then.

“I am quite nervous.”

“Why?”

“That is _the_ question, I think.” Molly says with an uneasy smile. “The answer to which, by my best guess, is you.”

Jester turns back towards him. “Why do I make you nervous? Is it because I like you?”

That gives him pause. A lot of pause. A very long pause. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“I like you.” Jester repeats in her typical matter-of-fact tone. “Again, I guess.” Seeing the look of complete confoundment on his face seems to give _her_ pause. “…Did you not know that?”

Molly leans back in his chair, studying her. Considering the new possibilities. “You can be very difficult to read at very crucial points in time, my dear.”

“That’s not my fault.” Jester shrugs. “I’m always very honest.” Molly snorts in disbelief, and Jester grins. “Okay, I’m usually pretty honest.”

“In any case.” Molly says. No going back now. “This seems like a good time to tell you that I also _like you, again, I guess_.” He’s quietly proud of himself for being able to get that sentence out without choking on his tongue. Jester tends to do things to his brain that he can never entirely predict.

She narrows her eyes, stirring her cocoa. “No foolies?”

Is it really going to be as simple as that? Surely not. “No foolies, dearest.”

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

Molly had fallen ass over face in love with Jester in the first place because despite her attachment to material possessions, she let things be simple whenever simple was best.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

“Okie dokie, then!” Jester smiles. “I’m going to make us some heart-shaped pancakes with these moulds that Beau got for me.”

“That sounds _divine,_ love.”


End file.
